Page 79 of How To Not Need You

The group clusters closer. Phones appear. Luca produces a laptop from behind the counter like he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life, and within thirty seconds, we’re all hunched over screens, scrolling through Jarod Hein’s public social media with the collective determination of people who’ve forgotten this is technically not our business.

I move to look over Luca’s shoulder. His profile is ordinary. Almost disappointingly so. Photos of beaches. A dog that might be his mother’s. A few group shots where he’s smiling in the background, the kind of man who exists in other people’s photographs without demanding the frame. Nothing jumps out. No names that ring bells. Ben mutters something about privacy settings. Luca insists we try different search terms.

I turn to look at Liv. She’s been quiet.

Almost concerningly so. Her phone in one hand, her thumb scrolling with a patience the rest of the room has already abandoned. Harper’s moved on to a different photo. Ben’s flipping through comments. Natalie’s staring at the screen like she’s trying to see through it.

Liv stops scrolling and I watch her fingers as she zooms in on something. She holds the screen closer to her face than is probably medically recommended.

Then she does it again.

Her brows pull together.

I have no idea what she’s looking at from where I’m standing, but apparently it’s interesting enough that she’s stopped listening to Luca and Ben argue about whether they should create a second board just for Jarod.

“What?”

She ignores me.

“Liv?”

“Hang on.” She zooms in again, staring at whatever she’s found for another few seconds before her whole expression changes. Just a tiny widening of her eyes signals she found something before she looks up at Natalie.

“Nat?” Something in her voice quietens the conversation around us. Liv turns the phone around and holds it towards her.

“Does that bracelet look familiar?” Natalie leans closer. And freezes for a moment.

“Where did you find that?”

“Jarod’s photos.”

Liv turns the screen slightly so the rest of us can see it now. Jarod takes up most of the photograph, but someone else has been caught at the edge of the frame. Part of a sleeve. An arm. A hand.

“Matthew bought that for Rebecca,” she whispers. The words come out so quiet I almost miss them. “He bought it for her birthday. Gold links with a small sapphire. She never takes it off.”

Then Natalie’s eyes drop to the date on the post. Her breath catches.

“What?” Harper asks.

Natalie looks at me. Her face seems to be so sad that it's almost tangible.

“She wasn’t here.” Her voice is thin. “That weekend. Rebecca told Matthew she was visiting her sister in Adelaide.”

The post places Jarod at a coastal town three hours north of Adelaide. If that arm belongs to Rebecca, then she wasn't visiting her sister in Adelaide. She was three hours north with Jarod.

Which means the weekend wasn't just an affair. She planned a cover story for it.

We don’t just have evidence of an affair anymore. We have evidence of a constructed alibi. A lie built with dates and destinations, carefully arranged to hold up under casual questioning.

Natalie stands. Her chair scrapes against the floor. “I need to go to Matthew. Now.”

Harper reaches for her wrist, light enough that Natalie could pull away if she wanted to. “Wait.”

“She lied to him. She built a whole weekend around a lie.”

“I know.” Harper stays calm, even with Natalie halfway out of her chair. “But she can still explain it. The bracelet, the sleeve, the date, she’ll say it’s coincidence. She’ll say you’re reaching. And if Matthew wants to believe her, he will.”

Natalie’s frustration flares at that. And as much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Harper. It’s easy to explain it away. I wish this picture could fix it all for Natalie. Rebecca has already spent months convincing Matthew that Natalie is jealous. One photo of a wrist isn't going to undo that.